


Onwards Onwards

by Lothiriel84



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Emotionally Repressed, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Queerplatonic Relationships, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21835738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: And I can't blame you forMy lack of strengthBut I can't see how I mightMake amends
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Onwards Onwards

In the Beginning, angels were not made to understand, let alone experience, the wide range of human emotions. If required to make an educated guess, Aziraphale would assume it had slowly been rubbing off on him over several centuries of living among humans; it had been creeping up on him so gradually he failed to realise it until a couple of millennia on, and even then, he didn’t quite know what to make of such a preposterous notion.

After a series of puzzling incidents, which shall forever remain unmentioned, he eventually settled on what appeared to be the best course of action: disengaging from those pesky emotions as soon as he becomes aware of them, shelving them for future reference, on the off chance he finds himself better equipped to deal with them at some unspecified moment in time.

The thing is though, the blasted Apocalypse has come and gone – or, you know, gone back the way it came – and to his own surprise, he’s beginning to find this tried and tested method somewhat lacking, in the light of everything that (almost) happened.

Take Crowley, for instance. One day he’s all over the bookshop, draped on whichever piece of furniture that’s closest to Aziraphale, and the next, it’s as if he all but disappeared off the face of the planet. Both instances are equally as hard to put down for Aziraphale, albeit in entirely different manners, and he finds this whole state of affairs quite irritating, no matter that he can’t seem to articulate the reasons why even to himself.

_Would this be any easier if we were humans?_ he wonders idly, the book he’s been perusing for the better part of the afternoon failing to relay any conclusive evidence either way. _Am I letting us both down, somehow?_

The fact that an angel would willingly become invested in whichever facet of reality has probably never occurred to anyone in Heaven, which explains why it’s not explicitly forbidden; still, old habits die hard, even more so if they happen to be a few millennia in the making.

And yet, the thing is – you don’t put books on a shelf never to be opened again. That’s not why he’s been collecting them for centuries, lovingly repaired them so that he could go on enjoying reading off those pages over and over again. Perhaps, in a way, that’s also what human emotions are about – not so much a minor inconvenience to be hastily stored away and forgotten about, as something to be experienced fully, and without reservations.

Feeling like he’s as close to cracking the mystery as he’ll ever be, he shuts the book with more force than he intends to, startling the sleeping demon resting across his lap. “Whassup?” Crowley mumbles, making a somewhat uncoordinated attempt to push himself upright.

“Nothing, my darling,” Aziraphale hastens to reassure him, guiding his head gently back onto his lap. “You may continue your nap.”

“’s nice,” Crowley mutters, voice heavy with sleep. “ _Darling_. I like that.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale smiles, and for the first time in his extremely long existence, makes a conscious effort not to distance himself from the warm feeling stirring in his chest.


End file.
